Swimming in blood
by IAmTheMedusa
Summary: John wakes up at the hospital...something is strange, something is missing...or someone. After TGG. Rated M for slash  second chapter . Sherlock/John. Don't own obviously...
1. You killed me too

Hi!

New story!

New beginning! This story isn't _Not Sherlock enough_'s sequel.  
>No beta for this story so, please, excuse my bad english (sorry -_-!)...<p>

Hope you'll enjoy it anyway :)

**Chapter 1 – You killed me too**

John's point of view

First there was a sound. A high pitched tone that pierced my ears, then a muffled sound, a word and an echo, a strange sensation as if...as if I was in a pool.

The pool.

_I feel the weight of my soaked clothes. I am almost drowning. My right arm hurts, a feeling I've already experienced. I've been shot. The water is tainted. I'm losing a lot of blood. And there he is, eyes closed hair floating round his face. I try to pull him on the other side of the pool. He is bleeding too, his head. His coat is heavy I try to take it of his shoulders but I can't. I kick off my shoes and put my left arm around his waist and try to swim. Then I reach the ladder. My head is out of the water now and I can see the fire. The cubicle's doors are burning. There is smoke in the air and fragments everywhere. He did It, he did shoot the explosives and I've thrown myself on him, to protect him, to prevent us from receiving the ceiling on the head, prevent us from being shot by the snipers. Seems I missed that one. He is so heavy, my arm is useless but I pull him out of the water. I feel dizzy and sick. God I'm about to throw up. Everything is moving. I can't ear anything now except a hight pitched tone. He is not moving and the earth is falling. I want the earth to stop and him to move. I want him to move now! Suddenly everything is black. Please help me._

_Help me!_

_Sherlock!_

I opened my eyes and closed then almost immediately. Too much light. I growled and lift my arm to my face. Something was wrong, someone put me on a drip. I opened my eyes slower than the first time to give them time to adjust to the white light. Everything was wrapped in a heavy blur and for a minute or two I felt disoriented. Then things found their shapes back, I turned my head and saw the needle in my left arm and the bandage on my right one. I tried to move but a violent pain made me understand that it was a really bad idea. I was... yes, I was in a hospital. My mouth was dry, I felt numb. How long have I been here? I wanted to read my file which hanged at the end of the bed but it was just to far so I searched for the call button and pressed it several times. A few seconds, maybe minutes later (it could have been a year since my sense of time was completely off), a nurse came into the room. She smiled.

"Oh you are awake," She looked at the perfusion "I'm going to call the doctor, he will be right here." She left.

I tried to say something but my throat burned so much that I could barely breath. A man in white blouse came in.

"Mister Watson, I'm Doctor Finch. How do you feel?" _Bad, thank you._ I shook my head still unable to speak.

"You've been caught in an attempt, a bombing and you've been shot in the right arm. No muscles or bones have been touched, seems you were lucky. It will hurt though." _No kidding? _I rolled my eyes but the doctor kept talking. "You are bruised but no broken bones. You inhaled a lot of carbon monoxide so your lungs and throat will burn for a few days."

I tried to speak but I just managed to croak, I tried again "Been here, how long?" My voice scared me.

"It's been two days." Doctor Finch answered.

"Where...Sherlock?" I said

"Excuse me I didn't understand your question, maybe it's better if you don't try to speak right now"

"Wasn't alone, other man, where?" I tried to make him understand without hurting too much, so I contented myself with short words and no phrases.

"I'm sorry I don't know about any other man. I know the police wants to talk to you, It will wait until you can speak though..." He kept talking. No other man, no Sherlock. It wasn't possible.

"No! Police now..." I said and the doctor frowned "Please".

"Look, you can't speak, I don't think it's the best time for that, it can wait until tomorrow."

With that he hanged the file, took a lamp out of his front pocket, checked my eyes, throat and pulse. He smiled at me. "You have to rest. I'll tell the inspector he can come tomorrow. Ok?" _No I'm not okay with that!_ I nodded, what else could I do?

"DI Lestrade. Please?" I croaked again.

"Ok, Mister Watson, I'll see what I can do." He got out of the room.

I closed my eyes. Sherlock wasn't here. Maybe he decided he didn't want to go to the hospital, he could be so stubborn sometimes. No, not sometimes, _all the time_! But maybe he was in a different hospital or maybe Mycroft decided a public hospital wasn't a good place for his brother to be. I will have to wait until tomorrow to know. God, that was annoying!

I slid into sleep again. When I woke up Mycroft was standing right at the feet of my bed. I blinked several times, what time was it? Was it the same day?

"Mycroft?" I said, my voice still hoarse.

"John." He nodded

"What are you..." I trailed off

"John," he caught my eyes and I felt something was wrong. "John I'm here to " he paused, he seemed to be searching his words and it scared me. "John I'm here to tell you something."

"Mycroft..." he wasn't himself and I felt fear crawling up my spine.

"Sherlock is dead." He finally said in a toneless voice.

"What?" I sat up on the bed and the pain pierced my arm, I growled. "It's impossible! No!" My throat ached, my lungs burned. "No!"

"John lay down please, don't hurt yourself." He moved to put his hands on my shoulders.

"Hurt myself? Mycroft what happened? After the pool? What happened?" There was a fire in my throat but it was nothing compare to the explosion in my head.

"The police found you at the pool, you passed out, you've been shot, and Sherlock was shot too, in the head. He was already dead." He looked down, he was about to cry. Mycroft was about to cry.

"No, I pushed him in the pool to avoid the bullets and the explosion. And I dragged him out of it, I dragged him..."

"It was too late John. The sniper shot him in the head." He squeezed my shoulders a little. "It's not your fault John, You did everything you could. No, it's not your fault."

My eyes opened wider ."Moriarty." I whispered. "It's Moriarty"

Mycroft nodded.

"Did you find him? At the pool? Did you see him?"

"No. We found no corpse, we found nothing. As far as we know, he might still be alive or rotting somewhere. I put my best men on it." He stared at me, his anger was burning in his pupils.

"I know you did." I said. I couldn't doubt that.

"Some of my men are watching you John." I opened my mouth but he rose a hand to prevent me from arguing. "Please, John, If the madman his still alive he might want to finish the job, let me do that, please. You were my brother's closest...only...friend. I owe him that, I owe you that, please."

I nodded.

And after telling me he would come back to talk about that night, Mycroft left.

I felt I was about to be sick but my stomach was empty. I wanted to cry but my eyes remained dry. I needed to get up but couldn't. I couldn't even scream. I was completely alone. Frustrated and alone. Sad, frustrated and alone. I took the glass which was on the bedside table and threw it to the wall where it crashed. It wasn't enough I took the plastic jug and even my pillow. Then I laid down and rub my face with my left hand. My eyes weren't dry anymore.

The nurse came in and found me completely hysterical.

She sedated me.

They were talking. I heard them. No words exactly. I opened my eyes and saw Lestrade and Donovan. They didn't see I was awake.

"And what can we say now?" Donovan asked, "You're not even master in our own house, you can't let him tell you..."

"Donovan shut up!" Lestrade said sharply as he watched me. "John?" he took a step closer to the bed and Donovan frowned, her mouth still open.

"John, are you okay?" the DI asked.

"Ok..." I croaked, the burning was still here and I pointed to the new glass on the bedside table. Lestrade took it and helped me drink. I felt numb again and it incensed me. I sat up and breathed in deeply to calm myself.

"Thank you." I managed to say to the DI who was watching me as if I was about to fall into pieces. "Stop watching me like that. I'm okay." I said sharply.

"Did anyone tell you..." he trailed off.

"Yes Mycroft told me." Donovan snorted end Lestrade glared at her. She folded her arms and pouted.

"I'm really sorry John." he looked confused. "Can I ask you what happened? Is it okay for you?"

I told him what happened, the bomb jacket, Moriarty, the snipers. I told him about trying to save us by jumping in the pool. I told him I failed. He patted my shoulder, I hated it.

He told me nothing interesting, nothing useful. At this point I thought Mycroft was the only one who could find informations and act properly. I wanted him to find Moriarty and call me. I had a lot of fantasies about how to make him suffer and die.

"Mister Watson, I really think it's not a good idea to leave now.."

"Doctor Watson." I cut Finch off. "I can take painkiller and change a bandage, I'm lucky to be left handed, am I not?" I gave him a cold smile.

I've been in this hospital for four days, I've been down for the three first days and the fourth they let me eat (hospital food) and take a shower. Staying here another night was just impossible to imagine.

"Doctor Watson, please."

"No!" I took the coat Harry had brought me in the afternoon with a complete set of clean clothes and went out of the hospital room.

With my right arm on a sling I decided to take a taxi home. Half an hour later I was in front of 221B Baker Street. I stayed on the pavement watching the door. The simple idea of opening it scared me to death. After a moment I shook my head, took the keys out of my pocket and opened the door.

I was in the hallway when I heard our apartment door opened. I lift my eyes and saw Mrs Hudson. She was pale and her eyes were puffy and red, when she saw me she lift her hands to her mouth and opened her eyes as wide as humanly possible. I climbed up the stairs as fast as I could and she collapsed on my left shoulder crying.

"Mrs Hudson hush please. I'm here, please. Don't cry." I said holding her. I helped her down the stairs to her apartment.

"Is there anything you need dear? Do you want to eat something, I can make tea?" She offered but I declined. I wanted to go in the flat, and, most of all, I wanted to be alone.

When I opened the flat's door I felt my chest tighten.

Everything was exactly the same, how everything could be the same?

Our tea mugs were on the kitchen table. Sherlock's violin was on his chair, his laptop on the coffee table. The laptop he used to send the message to Moriarty. Why did he have to do that? Why did he have to play the madman's game? Suddenly I felt mad with rage against Sherlock. Why did he do that? Why did he do that to me?

_To me?_

_He didn't do that to you, he did it to himself. Sherlock, you, stupid arrogant twat!_

_You were between to madmen._

_You did what you could, but it wasn't enough, John._

_It wasn't enough._

I put my back to the wall and slid down to the floor.

I spent the night torturing myself, repeating how useless I have been, how stupid Sherlock have been. But mostly I fed my revenge fantasies.

I spent the night on the floor.

Mrs Hudson opened the flat's door, she was holding a tray full of food.

"John!" she said when she saw me. "What are you doing here? How long have you been on the floor?" she asked while going in the kitchen.

I rubbed my face with my left arm, I tried to get up and growled. My back was stiff, I had a coated tongue, and my right arm hurt. I went to the kitchen. Mrs Hudson was making tea. I took the bottle of pain killer in my left pant pocket and swallowed two pills. My landlady made me drink tea and eat toasts. Then she got up and made me promise to go to sleep before taking her leave.

I really needed some rest but couldn't resolve myself to go to my room so I laid on the sofa in the fashion Sherlock did when he was...in the fashion Sherlock did. I turned my head and sniffed the cushion. It smelled like him. I fell asleep surrounded by the only consultant detective in the world's smell.

_I feel the weight of my soaked clothes. My right arm hurts. The water is tainted. I'm losing a lot of blood. And there he is, eyes closed hair floating round his face. He is bleeding too, his head. I reach the ladder. My head is out of the water now and I can see the fire. I pull him out of the water. He is not moving and the earth is falling. I want the earth to stop and him to move. I want him to move now! Suddenly he opens his eyes and stares at me._

I opened my eyes and rubbed my face. I took a deep breath.

"Hello Mycroft." I said to the man who was sitting in my chair. If he had to be here every time I woke up I may leave tea and biscuits on the coffee table for him, just to be polite. "Anything new?"

"Hello John." he said back. "Nothing new I just came to see If you were okay. I've been told you refused to stay at the hospital."

I sat with a grimace of pain. I found the bottle and took two other painkillers. Mycroft was watching me with interest and I felt like a lab rat.

"I'm fine Mycroft, thank you." I stared at him in silence.

"John, do you want to go elsewhere, I mean, move in another flat?" he looked concerned.

"No!"

"It would be a good idea, really, John." he insisted

"I said, no!"

"Fair enough. My men will keep an eye on you." he stood up.

"Mycroft, if there is anything, _anything _new, I want you to tell me immediately, please."

He looked at me, I must looked like shit at this time but he smiled lightly. "Of course John."

I knew he was lying.

I went in the bathroom took a shower, checked my wound and put on clean clothes. It was almost 7pm.

The tray was still on the kitchen table but I just couldn't eat anything. I went to the sink, opened the cupboard and found a bottle of scotch. I opened it and poured some on a glass and drink it down in one. I poured another and wedge the bottle between my chest and my right arm which was still on a sling, then I decided to go in a place where I could moan, a place I've never been before, I went in Sherlock's room.

He had left his nightgown on the bed, I took it and hold it to my chest. It was cold and empty but smelled like him. I spent the night talking to a ghost between to glasses of scotch. I'm not sure but I think I told him I missed him and that I hated him for leaving me. I hated him for making me the one who failed to save him. I hated myself for being responsible of his death.

I spent the next two days locked in the apartment, my phone turned off. I didn't answered the door. I ate painkillers, drank alcohol, spoke to a dead man and made plans to burn the whole planet in order to find Moriarty.

I was asleep on the sofa, wrapped around Sherlock's nightgown when something woke me up. The room was dark and it took a minute or two for my eyes to adjust to the obscurity. I scanned the room and saw a shadow standing close to the chair. A long, thin shadow wearing a long coat.

"Hello John." the shadow said and I immediately recognised the baritone.

"Sherlock?"


	2. Being a good ghost

Angel-Castiel : Thanks ^^  
>Eviik : Here it comes :)<br>LadyGreyTea : Seems like smile2go doesn't want Sherlock to be dead (I would have to hide in a lost island somewhere)... :p  
>Let's see if I have to pack my bag, shall we?<br>smile2go: angry? well... :)

As usual, thank you for you comments and everything !

Warning : Slash inside.

**Chapter 2 – Being a good ghost**

Sherlock's point of view

I was standing close to John's chair watching him sleep on the coach. He was holding my nightgown. He was muttering and I could only catch words here and there _pain_, _hurt_, _revenge_ and my name, several times.

He seemed to wake up and I didn't move still not sure if I wanted him to find out I was here but then he saw me.

"Hello John." I said. That was poor.

"Sherlock?" He asked while moving into a sitting position. He let out a cry, his arm must still hurt. I took a step closer and he sharply raised his head to watch me.

"Sherlock is that you?" his voice was hoarse.

"Yes."

"I've spent days mixing painkillers with alcohol, have I damaged my brain for good?"

"I'm not an hallucination, John, I'm here, for real."

He got up and the nightgown slid on the floor. He looked awful, a four days beard was eating his face, he had shadows under his eyes and his clothes were crumpled. He got closer and lift his left hand to touch my arm. Maybe was he checking I wasn't a mirage. He took it away almost immediately as if he had burned himself.

"It's you then" he said.

"It's me." He needed confirmation so I told him what he needed to hear.

Then, suddenly, he punched me on the face. I lost balance and fell on the floor, he may be hurt but he did his best. He knelled at my side and grabbed my collar shaking me forcefully.

"You sadistic, selfish bastard!" He yelled. "How dare you? How could you?"

"John, please stop." I asked grabbing his wrist "Please, let me explain."

Eventually he let go of my collar. I banged my head on the floor and groan.

"Sherlock?" He put his hand between my head and the floor and felt the dressing which was there. "Sherlock, I'm sorry, are you all right?" He asked concerned. He helped me sit. I caught his eyes he was genuinely sorry and a bit lost, I gave him a little smile and he relaxed a bit.

"Why Sherlock?"

"I had to." John sighed," I had to protect you John, with Moriarty on the loose, we are not safe. When I'm with you you are not safe." I looked at his face, he was furious. "With me dead he has no reason to come back for you and it gives me time..."

"Time for what?"

"Track him down."

"With Mycroft's help."

"Yes."

John looked down at the floor. "Why do I always have to be your puppet?" He said in a toneless voice. "You and your brother, you and your _games_." He looked disgusted by the word. He sat on his heels and stared at the floor.

"John you're not a puppet. I had to disappear. I couldn't tell you anything and I shouldn't be here right now."

John got up. "Leave then. Leave and don't come back." He sat on the couch and grabbed the half full glass he had left on the coffee table. Brandy. He was finishing all the bottles he could find.

I got up too, and flinched a little because of my head injury and the recent bump on it then found my balance again. I sat next to John, elbows on my knees, and looked at the brandy bottle.

"You saved me John, you know," I paused and he snorted loudly "your reflex to throw us on the pool saved us, the snipers purpose was to shot in the heads, on your case they missed and got your arm, in mine they almost succeeded. The bullet would have gone through my skull instead of scratching it if you hadn't pushed me on the pool. I passed out on the water. I could have died here too but you were there again. When I woke up I found you on the floor, soaking wet and bleeding. Thanks to the CCTV Mycroft saw everything and arrived a few minutes before the police. He arranged everything. He ordered Lestrade to shut up," John shook his head and laughed darkly, I turned to him," he kept an eye on you, at the hospital, and when you came back here and he told me everything. It's when he told me about the pills and the drinking that I thought I should come and check on you."

"To kind of you." He stretched is hand to take the bottle but I caught his wrist halfway.

"Don't touch me!" He shouted and easily freed his arm. "Be a good ghost." He smirked and I realised that I've hurt him badly by not letting him know I was alive, no letting him know that my disappearance was part of a plan.

"John..."

"Sherlock!" He cut me off "I really don't want you to talk to me anymore but if it's going to be our last conversation I need to say this." He moved closer to me and his eyes pierced me like spears. "I thought I saved you, that night at the pool, when your brother took that away from me at the hospital, I felt like my brain has been crushed, I found my chest empty." He paused, rubbed his face with his left hand and sighed "I've spent the last few days hurting myself to make me pay for your loss and at the same time I wanted to kill Moriarty, open his chest with my bare hands and rip his heart off. I just couldn't stand knowing him alive in this world while you were not. What does it say about me?" He glared at me, did he really want me to answer or was it a trap? I opened my mouth but he spoke again.

"It says that I am a fool. I killed for you and I planed to do it again, and I don't even worth your trust." He caught my eyes again. "You're worried about me, you know what, don't bother." He got up , took the bottle, climbed the stairs and slammed his bedroom door.

I stayed there a few more minutes pondering the pro and the cons of running up the stair and shake John but found that I've said what I came to say. He was mad at me – and half drunk – thank to him I wore a bruise on my cheekbone. I wasn't ready to loose the second round. I got up, ready to leave when my right foot got stuck on something.

I was standing in my nightgown.

I picked it up and headed for the stairs.

When I opened the door I saw John laying on his bed, his hand heels pressed on his eyes. He was crying. I crossed the room in to steps, climbed on the bed and sat astride John's legs. He removed his hands from his eyes.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?"

I bent over his chest and without a word I showed him the nightgown before throwing it away. I cupped his face with both hands and kissed him hard. He tried to push me but I caught his wrist and pined his left arm on the mattress above his head. I know I was cheating, he had only one valid arm and I had two but everything is fair in love and war. I leaned myself closer and kept on kissing him with all the rage I was capable of. Then, finally, he responded and I opened my mouth for his tongue. The sensation of his beard on my lips and chin was strange but his facial hairs were surprisingly soft to the touch. I pushed my left hand into his hair. I let go of his wrist and my right hand ran along his rib cage. His now free hand slid under my coat and jacket and around my waist. It stopped at the small of my back where it took a fistful of my silk shirt and tugged it forcefully. I heard the fabric tear and felt his hand graze the bare skin.

I got rid of my coat and jacket and went back to John's mouth taking his lower lip between my teeth and biting sharply. He growled and scratched my back. In spite of his injury he managed to grab my thigh with his right hand.

I kissed, bit and licked his neck while opening his shirt buttons. I wanted to eat him alive and it was physically painful. I bit his chest, he growled loudly and scratched my back harder breaking the skin. I moaned and rose my head to catch his eyes and what I saw was black burning flames. I wish I had seen my own eyes. John reassure his grip on my waist and rose his upper body from the mattress eyes still locked on mine. He nipped my neck with his teeth.

I have always been taller than him, and here, sitting on his lap I still was. I must say that dominating him was an habit, physically and intellectually, so when he rolled us and I found my waist imprisoned between his thighs I tried to fight back and put my hand on his chest. He shook his head and slowly wrapped his fingers around my right wrist. He made my hand travel down his bare chest and I pressed my nails against his skin. He sighed and loosen his grip on my wrist. I needed to keep control so I decided to choose the next move. I used both my hands to open John's belt, button and fly and push my fingers on his hips under his shorts waistband. He bent over to kiss me again and since the movement left room for it I took the opportunity to seize and massage his arse. He moaned in my mouth. That was more like it. I took his lower lip between my teeth and suck on it. John grope around to open my shirt buttons and I pushed my tongue in his mouth. Ours tongues duelled for a while and it was so fascinating that I stopped stroking his arse and he moved his hips from left to right to show he wanted me to resume the stroking. Don't know why but I did. I moved my hands as far as his position - sitting on me – allowed me to. Then I let my hand get around his left hip, I felt the black flames burning my face, he was anticipating my next move, I could have change direction, just to make him wait longer but it would have made me wait longer too. I ran my fingers along his cock. John moaned so loudly it surprised me. I tried to move back my head and see his face but his hand gripped my hair and his mouth found mine. I moved my hand slowly, and he licked my tongue. My pants felt really tight now, something needed to be done. Using my left arm as a leverage I moved into a siting position taking a still mouth kissing John with me. No doubt he let me do it. We were face to face and John was watching me. I couldn't read his expression, it was really frustrating. I resume my stroking and he kept on watching me in the eyes. Suddenly his hand was stroking me through the fabric of my pants, he had taken me by surprise and I gasped. Then he moved his hand and I felt he was opening my belt and button his eyes still on mine, my hand still on his cock. I was beyond frustration but, somehow, John's eyes helped me to calm down. I wanted him, I wanted him so badly. I've always been attracted to him, since the first day but I had decided not to show it because I couldn't afford loosing John. I was so sure he wasn't into men or into me. But when I found him wrapped around my nightgown...when I saw him going away from the living room, away from me... I needed to touch him, to show him...

What was happening? I was on my back again and John was pulling at my pants and shorts. I was naked except for my open shirt. He left the bed for just a minute and came back as naked as I was, as aroused as I was. He lay down on me. I felt his skin, his hips, his belly, his cock. I raised my upper body and supported myself on my right elbow mirroring his position. I cupped his face in my left hand and run my thumb on his lips, he opened his mouth and licked my fingers in a desperately slow motion, his eyes on mine. I kissed him, gripping his head with both hands. I was on fire. Without warning he moved his hips and I had to stop kissing him to moan. He gripped the back of my head and put his mouth back on mine, then moved again rubbing our erected cocks together and I growled in his mouth. Both my arms enlaced his torso and we fell back on the mattress. I left his mouth for his neck, bit and suck leaving red marks on his white skin. I needed so much to make him mine, I wanted to crawl under his skin, it was an animalistic feeling and I dove in it.

He moved away from me and I tried to pull him back. He stroked my cheek to make me understand he wouldn't leave me and stretched his arm to open the bedside table's drawer. I knew he was searching for his lube bottle. He found it and came back to me kissing me again, mouth, neck, chest. He licked my left nipple and I forgot about the lube, sighed deeply and grabbed the sheets. He showed the same interest for the other nipple and then kissed his way down to my belly. He got lower, found the tip of my cock and flicked his tongue on it. I arched my back. I was about to move when John put his hand on my chest. He licked the same spot again and I moaned. He took me into his mouth and moved his head up and down. He used his right hand to fondle my balls while his left one was still preventing me from moving and grabbing him.

His right hand was now teasing my entrance. Was I really about to let him do that? I needed to take the lead. GOD! He wasn't teasing anymore. He pushed one lube coated finger inside me and I grabbed his left wrist. He looked right in my eyes, my cock still in his mouth, and pushed the finger further. He pulled it out and pushed it in again while running his tongue along my length. It was almost too much and I grabbed his hair. If he wanted me to last longer he'd have to calm the game. He let go of my cock and I sighed then moaned when he added a second finger.

He removed his fingers and kneeled between my legs. He positioned himself at my entrance and I was hypnotised by the look in his face when he pushed inside me. My back arched and I cried with pleasure. I was at his mercy but right now I couldn't care less, his full cock was inside me and he couldn't please me more. He started to move and I found that he could. I grabbed fistfuls of the sheet and closed my eyes. John bent over my chest which changed the angle of his thrust, it felt even better and I opened my mouth in a silent cry. His left hand trailed at the back of my head and he tugged, he wanted me to watch him fuck me, I obliged. I really enjoyed the view especially his face full of passion and his eyes full of lust. John ran his right hand along my cock and thrust harder inside me. I moaned loudly and came, a few hard thrust later he followed growling like an animal and collapsed on me. He kissed me lazily then rolled on his left side.

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him closer.

"I missed you too." I whispered and he sighed loudly snuggling closer.

I had lost the second round, eventually, but I was glad I did.

I was licking John's neck, I wanted him to wake up. He stirred in my arms and opened his eyes.

"Thought you'd be gone." he croaked

"I shouldn't be here, but I couldn't leave." I said licking his earlobe, he shivered.

"Why?" he sighed, lightly running his hand up and down my chest.

"The last time I left without warning, I hurt you. I won't make that mistake again." I kissed him and run my tongue across his lips. John's hand was on my back now he felt the scratches he had made on my skin the night before. His eyes opened wide and he looked at my face inquiring.

"Seems I hurt you back." He run the tip of his right hand's fingers on my bruised cheekbone.

I smiled and kissed his lips lazily. I let my hand go down John's chest and belly, he was hard when I brushed is cock. John took my hand, entwined our fingers and put them down on his hard on. He freed his arm from under him and grabbed mine. We thrust at the same rhythm and came almost at the same time, moaning in each other's mouth.

"What a mess." John said watching our sticky bellies.

"We'd better clean this up and go down Mycroft is waiting for us in the living room."

"How do you know that?" he frowned.

"I heard him when he came in the apartment half an hour ago."

'Half an hour...Sherlock!"

I laughed and kissed him.

Since John had tore off my shirt he lent me one of his own, it was to large for me but I liked it. He tried to do something with my curly hair but couldn't manage to make it look like anything else than post sex hair. I came in the living room John at my heels. Mycroft was sitting in John's chair.

"Hello brother," he said "rough night?" He pointed at my eye "Hello John" he smiled obsequiously.

"Don't smile like that Mycroft it's not to late for me to give you a black eye too." John muttered darkly.

"John, we both know it wouldn't give you as much pleasure as the one you gave to my brother." Mycroft smiled and John growled menacingly.

"Sorry to interrupt your...civilities, but maybe it's time to talk about my funeral." I said coldly.


	3. The funeral

Miss Crookshank : I just couldn't let John suffer too much, call me a soft heart. But...Update? Update!

Boobunny60 : "friends" and...

smiles2go : bugger it, I was thinking about Hawaii...Or Iceland...well...no, not really...Anyway, I finally don't have to leave...You scared me you know ;)

New chapter.

R&R (please :))

**Chapter 3 – The funeral**

_John's Point of view_

I had sex with a resurrected Sherlock. Twice. I had sex with my best friend, my flatmate, the only detective consultant in the world who was now talking about his own funeral. Everything was strange and new but mostly it was as scary as it was good. Sherlock and I sat on the sofa, thighs touching, after two shags and no shower he smelled of lust and it intoxicated me.

"John?" Sherlock's baritone brought me back to reality "Can you focus please?" I can be sure he knew what was in my mind right now. I coughed and nodded.

Sherlock's funeral was schedule for tomorrow afternoon. The Holmeses wanted to be sure Moriarty would not reappear at the occasion, as the mad man he was.

"You weren't supposed to come here Sherlock, technically you weren't supposed to go out of your hideout. Fortunately I have all the roofs, streets, even the sewerage system covered." Mycroft said eyes on John who was about to reply something but the elder Holmes kept on talking "It seems nothing happened here, so to speak, but I'd prefer you'd leave with me brother."

"You already know that I won't. And you can stop your innuendoes now because John is about to punch you and you know I won't stop him."

Mycroft laughed he couldn't be less impressed. He left a few minutes later after a short exchange with his brother in the hallway.

"What was that about?" I asked

"Talking about details." Sherlock answered, I didn't expect him to add anything but ..."I will be at scream range, I won't leave you alone, but don't forget that I'm dead." he added swaying in my direction until he stood really close. He cupped my cheek with his right hand and his left arm wind round my waist. His mouth covered mine gently as he pulled me closer. I tangle my hand in his curls and kissed him back. He opened his mouth and let my tongue come inside to meet his. His hand slid along and around my neck, he pushed his long fingers in my short hair and tugged to make me bend my head so he could kiss my neck.

"You seem pretty alive to me." I whispered.

"You brought me back to life." he whispered back lips on my skin and I shivered.

I turned my head and locked eyes with him. His expression was indescribable, something between desire and uncertainty. I frowned and put my hand on each side of his face.

"What is it, Sherlock?" I asked concerned.

"I...I'm just amazed," he said "I never thought you'd let me do that." he kissed my lips lightly.

"I never thought you'd let me do what I did last night." I smiled.

"I never thought you wanted to." he smiled too "Tea?"

"Yeah" I sighed kissing him again "will you let me go or do we have to crab walk to the kitchen?" I asked smiling again. God we were acting like a young couple. We weren't a couple, or were we?

Okay it was definitively time to make tea, eat something, take a shower.

We didn't crab walk to the kitchen. I made tea and found Mrs Hudson had left shortbreads, bread and strawberry jam on the kitchen table. I smiled and thanked her in my head. We ate, yes _we_, and drank quite silently. I gave Sherlock some sideways looks from time to time and was coughed red-handed each time, eventually he put down his mug and watched me intently.

"Something's wrong, John?" he asked.

If something was wrong? Let's see, I was eating breakfast with my dead and resurrected flatmate, the same flatmate I had sex with a few hours before, and in the morning too. The same flatmate I would have killed for. The same person I grieved so much I could have died myself. Okay something was really wrong. I could see it now.

I was completely in love with that person.

I was completely in love with Sherlock Holmes.

"No, nothing's wrong, Sherlock." I answered before finishing my tea. I got up and headed to the bathroom. Having this kind of thoughts sitting right in front of Sherlock was a problem, he could so easily read your mind. Having this kind of thoughts under the shower was another kind of problem. And having this kind of thoughts under the shower with Sherlock on his knees sucking at my cock was really a big problem. I came screaming his name and slid along the shower stall panting. Since I was at the perfect height, I reciprocate the favour and soon Sherlock came in my mouth. We finally washed up and got clothed. I was really exhausted so I laid on the sofa, Sherlock joined me holding me close.

"John?" he asked softly.

"Yes Sherlock?"

"I will leave in the night. Nobody can see me. People will come here before and after the funeral, I don't know when I will come back in the flat. I know it was a mistake not telling you I was alive, I have to say I didn't expect you to react like you did, I'm really sorry I hurt you that much..."

"How should I have reacted? I thought I've failed you. I thought I've lost you." I said holding him closer.

"I'm just not used to have someone caring for me. I never meant to hurt you, John, again, I'm sorry." he kissed my forehead "But tomorrow I will be dead. You will be at my funeral. Please do remember that and please be careful."

I nodded, I perfectly knew how it felt to grieve him, tomorrow I won't be acting I will be remembering. I snuggle up to his body and rest my head on his chest. I fell asleep. A kiss on the lips woke me up, the room was dark. Shit! it was the middle of the night already, I cursed myself for oversleeping. Sherlock was standing close to me. I stood up as fast as I could and took him in my arms in a really close embrace and sighed. I kissed him hungrily and he answered with the same fervour.

"Soon" he said on my lips.

Then he was gone.

I sat on the sofa and rubbed my face. I felt alone. If I hadn't Sherlock's smell all over me I could think the last day has been a dream. A cruel dream. I wasn't tired any more, I decided to shave, prepare my black suit and put on my grieving costume. Then I turned on the TV and watched repeats of Hercule Poirot. It wasn't my favourite but I decided to stay awake all night, grieving generally implied shadows under the eyes. I listened to my cellphone's messages and read my texts, Harry, Lestrade and Harry again then Mike, an incoherent Molly, some unknown people condoling. Mycroft has made a good job spreading the news.

The morning came, eventually, and I went to the bathroom to prepare myself. Someone knocked at the front door and I went down. It was Lestrade. I let the door open, turned my back to him and climbed up the stairs. He followed me closing the door behind him. I sat on the couch and look up at him. He was standing on the threshold visibly ill at ease, his eyes fascinated by the rug.

"John..."

"Today he is dead, tomorrow I will talk to you, and when I say talk, I mean yell at you." Lestrade looked tentatively at me and sighed "And at Donovan even if she seemed to dislike following Mycroft's orders, and, believe me, I can understand this." I smiled for myself.

"I must say I don't really like it either," Lestrade said a bitter smile on his lips "I didn't have a choice here, John." he added.

I knew exactly what he was talking about but I wanted him to feel bad, it made me feel good. Cruel? Of course it was!

Harry came an hour before the funeral, she tried to cheer me up, I felt really bad and expected her to punch me in the face when she would find out that Sherlock was really really alive. She drove me to the cemetery. I kept silent watching the road, I looked as miserable as I should, I was reliving my wake up at the hospital and Mycroft's visit and my eyes filled with tears. Harry squeezed my hand, I sighed and gave her a weak smile. _Sorry sister_.

"You really liked him, didn't you?" she said eyes glued to the road, she wasn't coping well with other people's pain.

"Yes I like him very much," I answered sincerely.

"You will miss him." she added, if she noticed the present tense she didn't said anything about it.

"I missed him." I answered and she frowned "I mean, I'll miss him." I corrected smiling weakly again. She gave me a sideway look and squeezed my hand again.

"We're here. Are you okay?" she parked the car and turned of the engine. People were already gathering in front of the cemetery. I saw Molly, she looked devastated and was blowing her nose in a large handkerchief. Mike was patting her back lightly, she turned to him and collapsed in his arms sobbing loudly. I didn't know what to think about that but I pitied her, would everyone here (except for Lestrade, Donovan and Mycroft) will pity me today? I couldn't care less. Sherlock was alive, he was alive, I had to cling to that thought. Give me strength Sherlock.

People came to me, talked to me, some of them were complete strangers. I couldn't refrain myself from thinking I would live this instant for real one day, what would I do then? I felt a hand on my shoulder, Mycroft was looking at me, ordering me in silence to clear my thoughts and focus.

_Focus John! _

We walked in procession behind a black lacquered coffin held by four strong men, probably Mycroft's flunkey. The other Holmes on my right, Lestrade on my left, Donovan right behind and probably an armed agents behind each leaf of each tree.

_Is there someone in the coffin? _

There was a hole on the ground, a rectangular one surrounded by sticky mud. We stood there lined up in a predefined order. First row family and close friends, second row the rest. I was in the first row. I refrained a smile.

_Family or friend?_

A man was standing close to the hole, he was the master of ceremony. He wasn't a religious man which didn't surprise me, I couldn't figure Sherlock believing in god, any god, except himself.

"If everybody is here we may proceed," the man said insensitively.

Everybody stood up rigidly not really sure of how to act, Molly cried, Mike looked down, Harry squeezed my shoulder from behind – the second row – and I sighed when I saw Mrs Hudson blowing her nose. Mycroft stood still is face closed.

"We are gathered here today to say goodbye to our dear friend Sherlock..."

_Our dear friend..._

"Who died to young..."

_Who died..._

_So many mistakes..._

The sniffing got louder and louder, it was almost unbearable, apart from Mrs Hudson who had the right to cry who were the others? People who idealised Sherlock like Molly who projected her fantasies on the man. Those people I've never seen who were they? Why did they cry like that? Why? I felt my eyes blur, was I about to cry myself?

Suddenly something happened.

Loud noises came from each corner of the cemetery. Explosions. People stopped sniffing to shout and run panic-stricken.

"Calm down everyone please, everything is in control!" Mycroft shouted to the crowd. His men went out from behind the leafs, shouting orders to each other and the cemetery was soon covered.

I stood there dazed, What was happening? There was smoke in the air which made almost impossible to see farthest than 10 meters around. The crowd was gathered and led somewhere safe while I stood close to the grave. Mycroft was close to me watching all around him to be sure everything was in control. Everything wasn't. Behind my back, in the rectangular hole, the coffin burst in flames with a loud bang. I did an about face and protect my eyes with my arms.

"John!"

Somebody was calling my name but I couldn't see anything.

"John!"

I coughed, my eyes and throat burned, I remembered the pool.

"John!"

The voice was louder but I still couldn't see who was calling me and the place was to noisy for me to recognise the voice. I walked backward and stumbled over something I fell but felt arms around me.

"John!" Sherlock said in my ear "I got you!" we fell on the ground, he was holding me close, my back to his chest "John are you okay?" he asked urgently while running his hand on my cheek.

"Sherlock? Sherlock I'm okay, I'm fine," I turned my face to watch his, he looked distressed "What are you doing here, you shouldn't be here!"

"I just couldn't help myself running to you when I saw the smoke," he said "scream range, remember?" he held me closer.

"Are you both all right?" Mycroft stood close to us "The area is covered, nobody's here."

"The bombs?" Sherlock asked arms still around me protecting me

"Remote controls" Mycroft wasn't pleased by the trick.

Our three phones rang at the exact same moment, texts. We looked at each other and reached for our phones.

_Don't ever think you can fool me! M._

I tried to get up but Sherlock didn't let go of his grip.

"Sherlock?" I asked looking up at his face. He caught my eyes and sighed. He wind his right arm around my waist and managed to stand us up in a smooth and graceful movement. He didn't free me though.

"Where is everybody?" I asked to Mycroft.

"Everybody's safe" he answered staring at Sherlock's arms around my waist "you know he can still be watching" he added.

"I know" I retorted putting my hands on Sherlock's, stroking his leather gloves and he answered by entwining his right hand fingers with my left hand ones.

Lestrade showed up, he was out of breath and a hint of surprise showed in his eyes when he saw Sherlock and I gathered in such a close embrace. He didn't dare to say anything about it though.

"We managed to find police cars to get everyone home," he said "and we will check each house and flat before letting them in." he looked at the man wrapped around me "Nice to see you, Sherlock"

Sherlock gave him a sharp nod.

"Let"s go home" he whispered in my ear and I nodded in agreement.

"Sherlock, you can't go back to Baker street, it's not safe" Mycroft said

"You have all the roofs, streets, even the sewerage system covered, aren't you? And frankly, brother, with Moriarty on the loose again, safe is now an obsolete word." Sherlock replied loosing his grip to allow me to walk more freely.

"At least let me drive you back," the older Holmes looked alternatively at his brother and I "please?" He insisted and Sherlock nodded " Wait in the car, I'll be right with you."

How unexpected and generous of Sherlock to give his brother a little peace of mind. We walked in the car's direction in silence, he opened the door for me and I sat. He closed the door behind him and suddenly all I could see were brown locks of hair and piercing blue eyes, he sat on my lap and kissed me feverishly. I should have known he had something in his head to accept so easily his brother's help. I licked his neck from his collarbone to his right ear and lift him up a little, a second later he was lying down on the back seat with me hovering over him.

"As far as I want this, maybe it's not the best place...oh Sherlock!" He had managed to open my shirt and was now licking my left nipple. "Please, stop this..." I moaned and he released my nipple, he cupped my face with his right hand, kissed me and nipped my lower lip. I growled and forgot all about the outside world. I opened his shirt and graze his skin with my short nails, I felt him shiver under me. I laid down my lower body between his legs and rubbed my crotch with his, his back arched and he grabbed the door handle behind his head. I licked his chest and slowly slide my tongue down to his belly. My hand were at his belt when somebody knocked at the window. Sherlock swore. We closed our shirts and sat properly or, at least, as straight as we could. Sherlock kissed me before opening the door and Mycroft came in the car sitting in front of us in silence. I flushed and avoid his stare. He knocked at the partition glass wall between us and the driver and the car moved off.

I was really uncomfortable, maybe because Sherlock was watching outside the smoked glass making me the only object of Mycroft's attention. Sherlock covered my hand with his, I turned my head and found his eyes.

"Stop it Mycroft," he said softly "you're bothering John, which bothers me."

"Someone with his head on a chopping block shouldn't be that disturbed by a simple look even if it's mine." He said smiling.

"We all have our heads on the same chopping block, Mycroft. John's as safe as he could be."

"And John's here" I added sitting straighter.

"That's the point John, are you sure you want to stay in Moriarty's line of sight"

"Yes I am," I said "I was ready for that a month ago and still am, I won't leave Sherlock now."

"Doctor, soldier, lover..." Mycroft's voice trailed off and he smiled bitterly.

The car stopped.

Sherlock gave a last look to his brother – a look full of reproach – and jumped out of the car. On my way out I leaned close to Mycroft.

"Doctor, soldier, lover. That's what I am whether it pleases you or not. And Mycroft I'm not a damsel in distress, I won't let Sherlock put himself in unnecessary danger for me." I told him "goodbye." I stormed out of the car without looking back.

Sherlock looked at me inquiringly.

"Had to clarify something with your brother." I said grabbing his hand "Now there is something more important for you to worry about." I added.

"What would that be?" Sherlock asked.

"Mrs Hudson." I said opening the 221B Baker's street door.


	4. And then the cabbie

glasdocka : Tack! Kul att du gillade den. (I asked a friend to translate :)) But It's too much you make me blush :)  
>Angel-Castiel : okay now I double blush...^^<br>Miss Crookshanks : Update ! :p

All right...here comes the chapter 4...

But don't be mad at me...all right...

**Chapter 4 - And then the cabbie  
><strong>

Sherlock's point of view

"I consider myself a good woman, a patient and good woman. Haven't I always been good to you Sherlock? Haven't I?" Mrs Hudson was pointing a threatening finger at me, her eyes were puffy – remains of the funeral – and her face flushed. "Pretending to be dead, seriously, what were you thinking? What were you thinking? And the poor John, he was so sad, you almost broke him down, the poor lad loves you so much..."

"Mrs Hudson, please calm down..." John said his face flushed too.

"No John you can't forgive that, tell him what you think about his behaviour..."

"Mrs Hudson, I already told Sherlock what I thought about that," he said looking at my face "almost everything though," he added in a whisper looking back at the old lady's face "calm down, Mrs Hudson, I understand you're anger, trust me, but you must calm down."

"Mrs Hudson..." I tried to apologise but she turned her back to me and slammed her apartment's door. "It could have been worse, at least she didn't threaten me to stop making tea." I smiled.

John sighed and took my hand leading me up the stairs. We entered the flat and I closed the door behind us. I tugged John's hand and pulled him closer, I found him slightly reluctant and frowned.

"What is it John?" I asked cupping his face with my free hand.

"Nothing, everything's all right, Sherlock," he looked shyly at me "really..."

"Does it have anything to do with what Mrs Hudson said?" I knew immediately that I'd hit the bull's eye – as always, but with John nothing was that simple – as he dropped his eyes to the floor watching the, oh so interesting, rug.

"Yes it does," he muttered "listen Sherlock, can we keep this for later, I just..."

"I love you too." I said crushing him against my chest and kissing him hard. I tangled both my hands in his hair and pinned him against the wall. I slid my tongue in his mouth and rubbed my body against his. He pushed my coat and jacket off and I let them fall on the floor.

"Sherlock," John said against my lips, I put my hand back in his hair and looked in his eyes.

"Yes john," I whispered my mouth hovering over his.

"Are you sure you don't mistake lust for love?" he asked tentatively.

" I know what lust is, and yes it's what I'm experiencing right now." I licked his upper lip "And I learn what love is with you." I kissed is jawline "At the beginning I didn't recognise it for what it was but then you killed the cabbie and..."

"The cabbie? But that was months ago..." He said pushing my face from his throat to catch my eyes.

"Yes it was." I answered staring at him "Can we keep on kissing now?" I asked, talking was particularly frustrating right now.

"Oh, God, yes!" he said rolling up his arms around my neck and waist to pull me back in our previous embrace. He kissed me with less urgency and more sensuality licking my tongue slowly. He lightly run the tip of his fingers along my spine and I felt goosebumps all over my upper body. I kissed his jawline and took his earlobe between my lips, I breathed in his ear, I knew it made him shivered, even when we weren't in this...relationship – odd to even think the word – I noticed that when I bent over his shoulder to look at his laptop and spoke to him or when we were walking shoulder to shoulder (in a manner of speaking) and I talked to him he always shivered and coughed to hide the fact he was troubled.

"John?" I whispered in his ear, teasing.

"hum?" he answered his breath shallow.

"I want you, now!" I said in a low voice I didn't recognise myself.

John smiled and moved his hands to my chest, he opened the second button on my shirt – The first one was already unbuttoned – then the third, his lips brushed against my neck, the fourth, the tip of his tongue was drawing parallel wet lines on my skin, the fifth...

So many buttons.

Frustrating.

I put the palms of both my hands flat on the wall on each side of John's head and looked at his face. I could hear my heart ponding in my chest.

John opened the last button (the left cuff) and run his hands on my chest up and down teasing my nipples on the way. I closed my eyes. I felt him move his arms and heard silk sliding on cotton, he was taking of his tie. His nails scratched something, buttons, his shirt buttons, once again he took his time then he leaned against me, lightly, just to take of his shirt completely, and, obviously, to tease me since he breathed in my neck and his hair brushed my skin. My hands turned to fist.

He put his hands on my waist and I opened my eyes again. He unbuckled my belt and opened the button then the fly before pushing my pants along my thighs. It fell on my ankles. After kicking his shoes off he did the same with his own trousers. He laid his hand on my cheek and run his thumb on my lips. I took it in my mouth and lick it. I could see from the state of our shorts that we were both fully erected and I was losing patience. I growled in frustration. John locked eyes with me.

"Love me, Sherlock." he said. I pinned him up against the wall once more and kissed him. Skin against skin, cock against cock. He threw his arms around my neck and I bit his lips. I managed to get rid of my shoes and pants and found my bedroom's door handle.

John fell behind on the bed. I got rid of my shirt and climbed on the covers and laid by his side.

"John I want you," I told him "I mean..."

"I know what you mean" he said rolling on his belly, hands under his head.

"John..." I whispered kissing his shoulders and along his spine on my way down. He helped me pull down his shorts and when I asked him to kneel on the mattress he obliged instantly. I kissed and licked his arse. I parted his legs and slid my tongue between his cheeks, he let out a muffled moan when I pushed it in him. I took his throbbing cock in my hand and stoke it lightly.

"God, Sherlock!" John shouted on the covers.

"Yes, that's me," I said before resuming my licking and stroking.

"Mmmmh please" he pleaded.

I had a lube bottle under the bed, I found it and used it on my right hand. I slowly slid my middle finger in John and moved it in and out several times then I took off my shorts and put lube on me, I grabbed his waist and lifted him a little so that the angle was better for both of us. I put myself between his thighs and pushed cautiously inside him. He moaned again but didn't fight me, I pushed deeper and deeper and soon my whole cock was inside him.

"Move!" John ordered and I did as I was told. I thrust gently at first but soon changed the rhythm to please us both. John was grabbing the sheets behind his head with his left hand while biting the back of the right one. The sight of him offering himself to me so completely made my heart jump in my chest.

I was close now and I wanted him to come with me. I leaned and changed the angle of my thrust which went even deeper and put my hand around his cock. I thrust and stroke harder and fell John shiver under me. He moaned loudly and I did too as a wave of pleasure ran through my entire body. The wave took us both and we came at the same time.

Eventually, John laid on the bed dragging me with him. I threw my arms around his waist and spooned his body. We were breathless, we stayed there in silence till our heartbeats found their normal speeds again. Then John shifted in my embrace to face me. He kissed my lips lightly and run his hand in my curly hair.

"I love you" he whispered and I beamed at him.

"Of course you do" I answered and he frowned. I couldn't help myself laughing.

"Sherlock, you're laughing, really?" he was genuinely surprised "It sounds good"

"I'll keep that sound for you," I replied kissing the tip of his nose.

"As far as I want the world to see the man you really are, I'll accept to keep the sound of your laughter, I allow myself to be selfish."

"Jealous?"

"Maybe. You?"

"Sarah?"

"Oh!"

There was an awkward silence, John looked puzzled.

"But you didn't show interest – romantic interest - in me, you told me you were married to your work." he said.

"And you told me you weren't interested," I added with a smile.

"Then the cabbie." John added in a whisper.

"Then the cabbie." I repeated before kissing his lips lightly. "The cabbie is dead," I started.

"But Moriarty isn't." John finished.

"No he isn't...We will have to be extra careful now, because we are each other's weakness."

"No Sherlock, we are each other's strength." John kissed me, I left those words being the last on the subject, for now, because they were as true as the one I said and I needed to see things this way. John and I, together against whatever Moriarty was up to.

Him and I, together.

**(The end?)**

**Okay 4 chapters. But I might write more, because I like this story. I'm just lacking ideas for the moment...If you have some :)  
><strong>


	5. Fire and ice

Hi all!

Thank you for all your messages and for adding this story to your favorite. It makes me happy :)

So here is the chapter 5 (shorter than the others but I have my reasons)

Please don't hate me :)

Read and Review (please :))

Enjoy!

**Chapter 5 - Fire and ice**

"Did it really have to be Iceland?" John said as he entered the sitting room and drop his travel bag on the floor.

"Oh come on, John. Don't say you didn't like the way I warmed you up..." Sherlock crooned in the doctor's ear making the short man shiver from head to toe.

"Oh I don't know, when you told me you were taking me on a beautiful island my first thought was tee shirts in Hawaii not parka in Reykjavik!" John was all grumpy.

"You're so cute in your parka, love." Sherlock started calling John _love_ a few weeks ago. It happened one common evening, the detective was working on one of his weird science experiment in the kitchen and John was sitting on the sofa, bare feet on the coffee table, updating his blog. It's been a month since the funeral incident, as they used to call the day Moriarty blow up Sherlock's coffin, and everything was almost what it used to be except for the tiny little thing that wasn't. Sherlock and John were now a couple. The detective spent all his nights in the doctors room and they both get up really tired, but happy, in the morning.

Sherlock was making strange noises in the kitchen, growling and cursing alternatively.

"What is it, Sherlock? I can't concentrate on what I'm writing..."

"Oh come on John, you've been staring at your screen an hour long without writing a word, don't take me as an excuse!"

"All right!" He really couldn't fool Sherlock "Why are you making all this noise exactly?" He got up and came in the kitchen at the exact moment Sherlock dropped a glass beaker on the floor.

"John, be careful!" Sherlock yelled as he crossed the room in two steps. "Are you all right love?" He asked as he reached his lover and put his hands on his waist pushing him away from the broken glass.

"I"m...I'm all right. Did you just call me _love_?" The doctor asked still walking backward.

"Well...yes, I did." Sherlock smiled. They had reached the sofa now and John fell heavily on the cushions. Sherlock stooped down and kissed the doctor lightly. "Does it bother you?"

"Ah...No..." John said on the detective's lips "I like it." He let the tip of his tongue run along Sherlock's bottom lip. The tall man fell on his knees and stole John's willing lips fiercely growling loudly. Half a second later, the blond haired man's shirt was off, his belt open and Sherlock was pressing his upper body on the bare chest scratching John's back painfully, not that the doctor noticed though. It was strange to see how much Sherlock liked sex, sex with John. The man everybody thought asexual was a real volcano growling, burning and, well, dangerous. Hopefully John knew how to canalise all this sexual energy.

And at this exact moment a volcano he was, burning of passion, impatient, lustful, pushing John on the sofa, installing himself between his legs pressing heavily, rolling his hips almost frantically, kissing angrily, loving the only way he knew, completely. John was so happy to be the one that provoked such passion in this extraordinary, beautiful mad man. He was aware that what he was living with this man was the most passionate thing he'd ever experience and he wanted their love to last forever. That was indescribable.

"I love you so much it almost burns me from the inside." Sherlock said in a hoarse voice biting John's neck then licking the bite marks.

"I love you too." The doctor growled then pushed his fingers in Sherlock's hair and pulled him back to his mouth. The detective rolled his hips again and John broke the kiss to gasp. "That's not fair..." He moaned as Sherlock put his hand on his stomach and lower lifting himself up to do so.

"Moan for me...please..." He said pushing down John's pants and shorts and grabbing is erected cock. The man below him couldn't help but do as he was told. Sherlock moved his hand expertly and John gasped again.

"Sherlock you'll have to take it slow..." He whispered and the detective let go of his lover's cock stroking it lightly with the back of his hand. The doctor wind his right leg around Sherlock's waist and pushed him down so he could kiss him. His tongue played with the brown haired man's. He licked it slowly trying Sherlock's patience a little bit more. Then he let his hand run along the tall man's spine from his shoulder to the small of is back, down and up and down again scratching a little bit harder each time. With John it was always a little bit more and a little bit more and a little bit more...until it was just exactly what Sherlock needed. And he new that stroking wasn't what Sherlock needed right now so he stopped and pushed him until he sat on his lap. He unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants as far as he could considering their position which was just enough to set Sherlock's cock free from his shorts. Then he pushed Sherlock's shoulders until it was him who was lying on his back. John hovered over the detective's chest slowly opening his shirt buttons, licking sensually his own lips and Sherlock let out a breath watching his lover, running out of patience.

"John..." He breathed "You're cruel..."

"Oh yes I am." The doctor replied kissing his lover's chest, his lover's nipples, his lover's belly and then...his lover's cock running his tongue along it. Up and down. And again. Sherlock shivered and put his right hand on John's head as his back arched.

"John..."

The blond haired man stopped moving. He didn't want the man bellow him to have his release this soon. He set his lover's cock free and kissed his way up to Sherlock's mouth while his left hand went teasingly down.

"Can I?" He whispered in Sherlock's ear before biting the earlobe.

"Yes!"

John fumbled between the sofa's cushions and find the lube bottle they left here for...well this kind of emergencies. He put some on his middle finger and slowly introduce it in his lover, preparing him for what was to come. Then he put some in him. He tangled his right's hands fingers in Sherlock's hair and kissed him with ardour as he entered him in one deep trust. The detective moaned loudly and grabbed John's hair. The doctor broke the kiss and looked in his lover's eyes trusting deeper and deeper. He grabbed the brown haired man's cock and moved his hand at the same rhythm as his hips. Sherlock's back arched again. John bent down and bit his man's neck accelerating his pace just a little more, just that little bit more and Sherlock came growling. John Followed soon after.

"I should call you love more often." The detective said a smile on his lips.

"Anytime you want."

"Yeah, parka, jumpers, _jumpers with a s, _gloves, scarf, and two pairs of socks! Remind me to book our next holidays myself, please!" John said and Sherlock shook his head smiling.

"You said yourself aurora borealis is the most beautiful thing you've even seen."

"But I almost lost my nose!"

"No you didn't." Sherlock threw his coat on a chair and his bag on the floor. "Come here, love."

"You know I can't resist that look."

"Yes I know..." Sherlock smiled again. He cupped John's cheek and kissed him lightly. "I'd love a cup of tea. Would you be kind and..."

"Sure."

John took off his coat before going in the kitchen and put water in the kettle.

They'd been away for two weeks and, thanks to Mrs Hudson's kindness, a lot of mail was waiting on the kitchen table separated in two groups (and filed in chronological order). John took out two mugs from the cupboard and put then on the table. He noticed a small box with his name on it. He took it and opened it.

Sherlock heard a low scream coming from the Kitchen.

"John?" He asked, that scream was somewhat strange so he run to the kitchen. John was lying on the kitchen floor shaking, dribble on the corner of his mouth. His eyes were open wide and he looked in pain.

"John!" He screamed kneeling close to his man. "What happened?"

John turned his head and looked at the small box on the floor. Sherlock grabbed the box and looked inside. What he saw almost stopped his heart. On the bottom of the box written in the cardboard in black ink was this short little phrase :

_Be careful, the spider bites. Xx M._


	6. The Fool, the King and the pawns

Smiles2go : Next room...hum, I don't think so ;) Anyway you don't scare me any more! :) More fluffy smut for you and don't worry for John, he won't stay on the floor too long :p  
>Miss Crookshanks : Moriarty is a bitch ! (that's why we love him :p)<p>

Here comes the 6th chapter. Once more thank you for reading and, please, review :)

**Chapter 6 – The Fool, the King and the pawns.**

"John! John please hold on!" Sherlock yelled, he was completely lost. His brain was out of order, John, _his_ John was on the floor, poisoned by the venom of an unknown spider sent by this bastard. What? Why? Who? How? Was all he could thing about.  
>Moriarty had disappeared for a while and because of their happiness they almost forgot about his existence. But the man was still here, still dangerous and most of all, still mad as a hater.<p>

Come on Sherlock, think, do something, move!  
>He had to react, <em>now!<em>

"Sh...lock...b..bl...ack...w...w" John mumbled.

"Black...Black widow? Is that what you want to say?" Sherlock didn't know if he could hold John's hand, if he could move him...and the man's face was red, he was about to choke. "Black widow you're sure?" John tried to nod and the detective understood it was a yes.

"Sh...ock...al...er...gic...spi...der..."

John was allergic to spiders bites, he could have an anaphylactic shock anytime from now, his throat could contract itself and he could choke to death.

"All right John, it's okay, I know what to do now. I need a minute please, I beg you to hold on please! I will be right with you." Sherlock was torn between the urgency of finding a cure and his need to hold the man he loved and tell him everything was ok.

Black widows. He knew those spiders, he studied them. He went to his room, opened the closet and fumbled in a box full of bottles. He read the labels and threw the needless ones on the floor where they crashed messily and noisily.

When he finally found the right bottle he searched for a syringe and one special medicine in the bathroom's cupboard. Then he run back in the kitchen, afraid to find John dead.

But he wasn't.  
>His face was red and he was fighting against the urge to throw up – he was scared to choke in his own vomit - but he was alive and conscious.<p>

"All right, John, I'm back, I'm here. I'm going to inject you calcium gluconate and muscle relaxant. This should ease your pain fast, at least you will be able to breathe. Do you hear me?"

John tried to nod again. The detective inject the serum in the doctor's vein. He called 999 and laid on the floor close to the man he loved waiting for him to breath. After a moment which seemed to last an hour, John stopped shaking and his breathing slowed down to it's normal pace, Sherlock threw his arm across his lover's chest and tears fell from his strange blue eyes. The ambulance arrived and, since Sherlock refused to let go of John's hand, the medics took them both to the hospital.

"Mister Holmes you have to leave Doctor Watson now, he needs to rest." The hospital doctor said.

"No, I stay!" Sherlock was lying on John's hospital bed his body glued to his lover's side refusing to leave the man alone.

"Mister Holmes..."

"I want him to stay." John interrupt the argument "Please." He felt better but weak and needed to rest but most of all, even if he was a grown up and a doctor, he needed Sherlock's presence by his side.

"All right. But you need to sleep. The muscle relaxant your friend gave you and the other medicine we add to your treatment against the venom should have knocked you out already, I'm surprised you're still awake."

"Don't worry doctor, I'm going to sleep as soon as you shut the door." That was a little rude.

"Well, good night and, Mister Holmes, Once more congratulation for your self control. You saved your friend." The doctor shut the door behind him and the room fell silent.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." Sherlock said sobbing and burying his face on John's shoulder.

"What are you sorry for? You saved my life." John said turning his face to the mass of curly brown hair.

"I panicked, I almost let you die!"

"No you didn't, you reacted really fast, you did exactly what you should."

"But I hesitated!" Sherlock turned his head and looked in his lover's eyes.

"Of course you did, you're human, Sherlock." John moved a little and cupped Sherlock's cheek.

"I was so scared."

"Yeah, so did I." John chuckled and Sherlock laughed too. They knew it wasn't funny but they needed to release the pressure.

"Can you come here, love?" The detective asked tentatively while opening his arms for John to cuddle on his chest.

"Of course I can." Sherlock hold John very close and the doctor soon fell asleep.

John's breath calmed Sherlock's fear and allowed the detective's brain to work it's natural way, fast.

Moriarty was back. His first move had been tactical. Trying to put Sherlock's lover down, hurting him, weakening him. That was awful to think but everything happened because of him, Sherlock Holmes. He was there again. A point he never left really. He talked about it with John after the funeral incident and John had been absolutely categoric about that : he wouldn't allow Sherlock to reject him to save him from Moriarty's madness.

The detective's phone vibrated again, the three first times it was Mycroft expressing his regrets for not having anticipated the mad man's move. The fourth was Lestrade for approximately the same reason. Now it was Mrs Hudson who wanted to know when John would be allowed to come home. No message from Moriarty which was scarier than receiving one.

Sherlock opened his eyes, he didn't sleep, just rested and listened the noises of the hospital – which was quite depressing really – John was still deeply asleep in his arms.

"Mycroft, you know that coming inside people's rooms while they're sleep can be considered a little bit invading even in a hospital." Sherlock said opening his eyes.

"You know how impatient I can be sometimes."

"Yes, I know."

"My men are covering all the exits and...well, you know, the usual." Mycroft smiled his business smile.

"He changed the rules this time." Sherlock skipped the civilities "He doesn't want us to admire him, he wants us to _fear_ him. That's why he didn't send a text this time. I lost my temper, I was...in fear. Now I have to focus."

"We will try to consider all the options..."

"Moriarty is a mad genius, I don't think the usual rules of deduction apply to him. He will be where we don't expect him."

"Sherlock, I insist, please, come to the manor, both of you, I want you somewhere safe."

"You want us somewhere you can control our movements. You know I can't accept that."

"Even if you put John's life in danger?" Sherlock looked daggers at his brother and kept silent for a moment – answering to that would have led to an inevitable argument and he didn't want that. Not here, not now.

"As always you act as if I not here, Mycroft." John said. Sherlock looked back at him. "Don't even bother acting as if you didn't know I was awake, Sherlock." John smiled.

"Oh look who's with us, the damsel in distress."

"Mycroft!" Sherlock snap back his voice louder than before.

"It's all right, my love. Just don't listen to him." John said cupping Sherlock's cheek and kissing him lightly. He knew this kind of demonstration of love made Mycroft ill at ease. Sherlock too, so he deepened the kiss sliding his tongue inside John's mouth and holding him closer. The shorter man whimpered in Sherlock's mouth and that wasn't only because he wanted Mycroft to go out but also because the detective was now running his hands along his spine in the fashion that made him shiver. When they broke the kiss – after several minutes – Mycroft was gone.  
>"As far as I hate the idea maybe you should consider your brother's proposition." Sherlock frowned "Sherlock, you know what I mean, you said it yourself, nobody can anticipate Moriarty's next move. The manor is a fortress, we would be safe here."<p>

"But we wouldn't be free." John searched an argument to oppose to that but just couldn't find one "You're right..."

"John," Sherlock said resting his hands on both sides of John's face "for you I could do that."

"I won't deprive you of your liberty, ever."

"All right, we stay together, and we stay at 221B...under Mycroft's surveillance."

"Some things never change." John laugh and Sherlock followed. They kissed again, hungrily, passionately. Suddenly John chuckled on Sherlock's mouth.

"What?" The detective asked smiling.

"I was just imagining spending a night in the manor with your brother popping inside the room without warning as he always do."  
>"That would be something yes." Sherlock smiled "I wouldn't enjoy having my bother watching us while we have sex though." He added before kissing his lover's mouth again. He let his hands run under John's hospital shirt and grazed the soft skin teasingly.<p>

"I must say it's not one my fantasy either." John left Sherlock's mouth and nipped his neck. The detective moaned and rolled them to lay on top of his lover, his lower body pressing heavily on John's.

"I love you." Sherlock whispered rolling his hips sending shivers on both their bodies.

"I love you too." John gasped as Sherlock moved again against him. The doctor tangled his hands in Sherlock's hair and pulled a little "You know we are in a hospital?"

"Yes."

"All right." John kissed his lover again and pulled the cover over their head.

Two days later they left the hospital, yes, they, since Sherlock refused to let John alone even for a minute which drove the nurses crazy, and came back to 221B which was now spider free. In fact, thanks to Mycroft's team it was spiders, rats, birds, cats, dogs, cockroaches, intruders, cardboard boxes – name one – , and, as far as they knew, Moriarty's free.

Mrs Hudson welcomed them, she was so relieved John was all right it took them almost half a hour to, gently, get rid of her.

The apartment was the same as ever but Sherlock suspected Mycroft hid microphones here and there. And perhaps a camera or two. Maybe he enjoyed the peak he took at the hospital and wanted more. Sherlock smiled for himself, as far as his imagination could go he just couldn't imagine his brother watching them, alone, in front a TV screen. He grabbed John's arm and pulled him to his chest kissing him passionately, just in case.

"Welcome home." He whispered before licking the doctors lips.

"You're insatiable." John breathed on Sherlock's lips before pushing him until his back softly hit the wall.

"Look who's talking." The tall man smiled.

The heat was seriously rising when suddenly Sherlock's phone ring.

"Hmmm..." He growled on John's neck.

"Maybe you should answer that." The blond haired man said.

The detective pulled out his phone from his pocket and frowned.

"What?" He answered dryly. The person at the other end of the line spoke for a long time. "Thank you." Sherlock answered before hanging up.

"Who was that?" John asked concerned.

"Nobody." The tall man answered cupping John's cheek.

"Sherlock!"

"Sorry. It was one of my contacts at the MI5." John opened his eyes wide. "What? I'm not Mycroft but I have my entries. Anyway, we already know that Moriarty didn't left fingerprints or anything, he is far beyond that." Sherlock smiled bitterly "We tried to trace the origin of the spider, but there is nothing convincing, as for the box...John, there is something more...your allergy..."

"Yes I know, Moriarty has access to my medical records and who knows what else..."

"Exactly..." Sherlock ran his fingers in John's hair "John, Mycroft can hide your sister somewhere."

"This is a good idea, yes...what about Mrs Hudson?"

Sherlock nodded.

And there they were moving their pawns in a defensive way ignoring what was yet to come.


	7. I love you more

**Smiles2go : **Yes that could be bad...

**TotallyGetsSpock : **I took me a long time but here comes the 7th chapter

**Watergoddesskasey : **glad you liked it :)

Hello dear readers.

Here comes the next chapter of Swimming in blood.

It took me a lot of time to write it because I wasn't sure to know what to do with it.

Now I know. Short chapter because I needed it to be dynamic and give the right impulse for the next one.

Hope you'll like it. Thank you for your patience and support.

Enjoy and please review

… … …

**Chapter 7 – I love you more**

"Sherlock?" John was sitting on the sofa his laptop where it was supposed to be, on his lap "Sherlock!" The detective crossed the room in two long steps.

"What is it John?" The brown haired man looked at the doctor with an almost scared expression on his face.

"Look at that..." John turned the computer so Sherlock could see the picture displayed on the screen.

"Of course it's signed with a M, isn't it?" He said turning his eyes away from the menacing spider's photography to look at John's face.

"Of course. But I think this bit is for you..." The doctor added scrolling slowly, revealing another picture.

"Bastard!" Sherlock hissed as he saw the close up of John's face, he was in pain, it had been taken from the roof on the other side of the street while Sherlock was in his room searching for the cure to the spider's venom.

"He wants to upset you. Don't let him have this power over you."

"But..."

"And stop being scared for me like that, firstly because I'm a grown up and I can handle myself and secondly because I want you back to your entire self, this gracious, intelligent and fearless man I met not that long ago. Understand me, I'm glad you care for me, really glad, and I love you but you make me think I'm dragging you back in the common world and, frankly I don't like it."

"Well..."

"Okay, what I just said is absolutely true but come here and kiss me right now because you're really cute when you have this expression on your face."

Sherlock smiled and came to sit close to his lover. They kissed lovingly and this was about to go further when John moved away from the detective.

"So you won't let him scare or infuriate you with things like those pictures?"

"No I won't...come here."

"Sherlock..." John said, he was really serious.

"No I won't let him have power over me, but I will do my best to keep you safe, you can't prevent me from doing that."

"No I can't." John smiled and went back to the kissing.

"Oh!" He interrupted once more.

"What?"

"You can tell your brother, he doesn't have all the roofs covered, shame on him."

"I will," Sherlock answered pushing John to make him lay on the couch "now shut that pretty mouth of yours...From now on you're just allowed to moan, whimper, gasp and scream my name." The detective run his tongue along John's neck and nipped it lightly and John let out a sigh "That's a good beginning yes, let's see if you can do better."

The next hour proved he could do better, much, much better.

… … ...

The next day, John received another mail, a picture of him walking in the street. A target was drawn on his chest.

He didn't tell Sherlock.

… … …

The next day, John and Sherlock were sitting on the couch.

"John I'm so bored..." The detective said leaning close to his lover.

"Maybe you should conduct a new experiment..." John looked at his man's face, Sherlock was smiling like the Cheshire Cat "No you won't experiment on me!"

"Please...please, please, please..."

"God Sherlock you can be such a child sometimes!" John groaned. That morning he received a picture of him covered in what seemed to be blood, that affected his mood. "Sorry...I'm, just not in the mood today..."

"What is it John?" The detective said his face serious again.

"It's just, I't's kind of claustrophobic here. I know we can't go out without our escort, and, frankly I have nothing specific to do outside but I feel like a rat in his cage."

"I know how it feels..."

"Sorry, I know you value your freedom, this must be difficult for you as well..."

"I'm with you."

John smiled and cupped his lover's cheek.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

"No you don't."

… … …

The next day everything changed.

… … …

"I know it was the best thing to do but...he's going to hate me, and you. But you're used to it, aren't you" John turned his head and looked in Mycroft's eyes.  
>"He will understand."<p>

"No he won't. Don't lie to me, ever. Ever more, should I say." Mycroft's always so polite smile left his face and John sighed. "Where are you taking me."

"Give me your phone John."

"Why?"

"Give me your cellphone and I will tell you. I can't let you change your mind and tell Sherlock where you are."

John stared at the older Holmes, thinking fast, then he put his hand in his jacket pocket and took his mobile. He hesitated a short second then gave it to the man in front of him.  
>"Thank you."<p>

"Do I have to tell you what the deal is again or you got it?" John asked gloomily.

"I haven't always been true to you but I'm not a liar, John."

"I wish I could trust you."

"I wish you didn't left that message to my little brother."

"I just couldn't leave like that."

… … …

Sherlock woke up in the mid-evening, his head was heavy, his mouth dry. Something was wrong, really wrong. His thoughts were foggy.

"John?" He croaked "John?" He sat on the bed, shook his head and ran his hands on his curly hair. Then he saw it. The white envelope on the pillow. On John's pillow. He took it and read his name on it, John's handwriting.

.

_Sherlock,_

_Do I have to explain what is happening here? I don't think so._

_Believe me I'd rather be with you than anywhere else but I'm weakening you, my presence is clouding your judgement. What you need now is control._

_Moriarty is targeting me. Maybe it's part of his plan, maybe he is just insane, I don't know. You said it yourself, it's not possible to be sure of anything._

_I believe you know who's helping me._

_Don't try to find me. Please. I hope I won't regret this._

_I'll be back as soon as I can._

_I love you._

_Forever yours,_

_John_

.

"Listen to me you bastard," Sherlock screamed on his brother's answering machine "I don't know what you told him to make him leave me but you bring him back now!"

Mycroft didn't call back since his broken cellphone was laying on the road close to his now damaged and empty car somewhere in the English countryside.


	8. 23

Hello dear readers and reviewers

**Shwatsonlockfan :** If you could see a satellite image of the country I live in, you'd see a really red point somewhere...it's me blushing. Thank you very much! :)**  
>watergoddesskasey :<strong> I know I'm such a tease :p**  
>Boobunny60 :<strong> And poor John and Mycroft! Sherlock is really pissed and he is not alone...**  
>Miss Crookshanks :<strong> Double reason for Sherlock to hold himself together and do something !**  
>anksenamoon :<strong> C'est pour maintenant :)

So...another short chapter but... Sherlock as pissed as he could be is not the only one.

Hold on to your BlackBerry (ies?) here comes kind of a new team.

**Chapter 8 - 23**

Sherlock spent the next hour trying to reach the two men's phone. John and Mycroft never answered though. The detective was absolutely infuriated and incapable of thinking straight. He was just walking in the house, his arms drawing strange patterns in the air. Finally he sat on the couch and hid his face in his hands. His phone buzzed and he jumped.

"John?"

"No. It's Anthea." Sherlock new immediately that something really bad happened, his face turned blank, his eyes looked like steel, he was focused.

"Tell me!"

"Mister Holmes is out of the map."

"You've been where he disappeared, what did you find?" Having Anthea on the phone was like having needles slowly pushed under his nails. Not that she had a horrible voice or anything, just that a conversation with her longer than a few second could only mean two things, first the world has been destroyed, second, Mycroft was in danger and with him, John (and, since 221B was still there, that was the only option left).

"Mycroft disappeared. The two bodyguards are dead." She called her boss by his name, bad sign.

"John?"

"Nowhere to be seen."

"Tell me everything!" Sherlock's voice was lower than ever.

"John called your brother last night and decided to accept his proposition to be...hosted for a while." Sherlock growled "Because of the pictures Moriarty sent him."

"Pictures? He sent him one picture."

"He sent him more than one picture." Sherlock got up and switched on the laptop which was on the kitchen table. He checked John's mail (after breaking his password again). He opened his eyes wide when he saw the twenty three mails John received from M. each one including a picture of John. John covered in blood, John disfigured, John suffering, suffering suffering. "Why didn't he tell me?" Sherlock said in a small voice.

"He didn't want you to be scared. He thought you'd be able to do stupid things." The woman said coldly.

"Fuck!" Sherlock shouted and Anthea stopped speaking. "Where were they supposed to go?"

"John made you ingest sleeping drugs and Mister Holmes picked him with his car at 4am. They were supposed to go to the Holmes property in Sussex. They never made it. They've been stopped on the road between Salfords and Horley. Someone stopped the car, killed the bodyguards and kidnapped your brother and Mister Watson. It was around 4.45am."

"The chauffeur?"

"The chauffeur is missing."

"Pick me here in five, I want to see the car."

"I'm already in front of your door."

Sherlock spent the whole trip reading reports, watching pictures. Asking questions from time to time quickly answered by the brown woman who was more than ever reading and typing on her blackberry.

"Why did they stop?"

"We have no clue."

"What were the bodyguards' instructions."

"They were told to stop under no condition. No outside event should have stopped them."

"An inside work?"

"We can't be sure of anything, both the bodyguards have been executed, one bullet on the forehead. The chauffeur is missing, we can't be sure it's not a decoy."

"What about Mycroft and John's phones, what does the GPS says."

"Your brother's phone has been found close to the car, broken. We have no data about John's."

Sherlock raise his head and gave Anthea a sharp look.

"Blood samples have been collected, results are expected in the morning."

Sherlock took half a second to admire the women's efficiency then crawled back in his longing for John.

"I want him back." The words escaped John's mouth and Anthea looked at him."I know the feeling." She said.

"Railway?"

"Tourism and merchandises, two trains, nothing reported."

"No airfield. No CCTV on this part of the road?"

"No." The woman's voice wasn't as steady as before.

"We're going to bring them back."

"I know."

"You closed the entire road?" Sherlock asked when he saw the roadblock.

"We used a gas leak as an excuse."

"Good."

They parked half a mile away from the car, Sherlock wanted to see the road, observe the tyre marks, the small pieces of glass on the asphalt. The chauffeur had turned suddenly which suggest that something had been in the middle of the road. The car crashed on the guardrail and stopped.

There were blood marks on the headrests and broken glass on the dashboard and the floor. The detective look inside the car. Mycroft's umbrella was still there.

"Did you find something?" Anthea's eyes were shinning, as much as she tried, she couldn't refrain all her emotions.

Sherlock extirpate himself from the car.

"4.45am, one sniper in the middle of the road he shot the first bodyguard right through the windscreen, the chauffeur got scared and turned abruptly and crashed there. The second bodyguard went out of the car and got shot. He fell there." Sherlock pointed at a large blood mark on the floor. "The other blood marks, nose bleed from Mycroft and someone spit blood on the headrest, I think...John bit his lip or the inside of his mouth during the accident." He stopped and combed his hair with his right hand."Anyway, the crash didn't kill or injured the three of them, they were able to walk. That's exactly what they did. Everything suggest they've been kidnapped on foot."

"On foot?" Anthea frown.

"They probably crossed this field" he pointed at the field right behind the road "and joined another road where a car had been parked."

"Which means..."

"They could be anywhere."

The brown woman started tipping on her blackberry again.

"Who are you sending texts to?"

"Scotland Yard. I need all the help I could find, I have a large perimeter to cover."

"Let's start with that field."

"...find something?..." Anthea asked, she was far from the detective and had to shout.

"I was right." Sherlock shout back an kneeled on the floor "They walked..." he said to himself observing the soles marks on the ground. "here...Mycroft...there...the chauffeur and here...John." Sherlock closed his eyes for a second and bit his fist through his leather glove.

"Sherlock are you all right?" Anthea asked, she was close to the detective. This woman was as silent as a cat.

"Three kidnappers. Rangers, size 11, two hundred pounds at least. Crepe soles size 8, shorter, lighter, and boots, size 6, a woman."

Finally they found a road.

But no clues.

One end of the road leaded to a crossroad, the other one leaded to a small village (where no one saw anything unusual).

"I'll ask my men to comb the area. I'd make them search the whole united kingdom if I must."

"Drive me home."

Sherlock was climbing the 221B's stairs when his phone buzzed. He put it out of his pocket and read the text message.

_Do you love me? JW_

_You know I do. SH_

_Prove it and find me, my love. JW_

"I will..."

… … …

_M is trying to mess with Sherlock's mind...If it pisses you as much as it pisses the consultant detective...review!_


End file.
